


Plant Your Starlight in My Heart

by cara1317



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, M/M, Magic, Pack Dynamics, Werewolves, Witches, ennoshita is a literal hermit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 05:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15599172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cara1317/pseuds/cara1317
Summary: As a witch, Ennoshita keeps mostly to himself. So when he brings a stray wolf into his home, he isn't quite sure what to expect, especially when Tanaka seems to have a magic all of his own.EnnoTana Week 2018 — Day 7: Alternate UniverseOriginally written for Worlds Away: A Haikyuu!! Fantasy Zine





	Plant Your Starlight in My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kaiyou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyou/gifts).



> ENNOTANA WEEK, HELL YEAH ♡
> 
> Originally written for Worlds Away: A Haikyuu!! Fantasy Zine. Digital orders are still open at [fantasyzines.bigcartel.com!](https://fantasyzines.bigcartel.com/product/worlds-away-a-haikyuu-fantasy-zine-ezine)  
> Much love to Kaiyou for running such a wonderful project!

Ennoshita doesn’t agree with the villagers when they say that he’s strange for wanting to live out in the woods.

He much prefers the tranquility that comes in being alone in the forest, the gentle filtering of sunlight through the thick canopy of pine needles and the scent of cool dirt and _nature_  all around him.

He doesn’t mind the lack of neighbours or the way the wind wails on particularly stormy nights, doesn’t mind that if he wants something “modern” he’ll have to make the five-day trek to town—ten days, really, to go there and back.

After all, he _is_  a witch.

———

Unlike the ones in books and movies, Ennoshita’s particular forest clearing is by no means small. While his home is a modestly-built dwelling made from wood and stones, blended into the sloping ground around it by creeping moss and vines, his gardens span an acre or two, filled with nearly every sort of plant imaginable.

Most are herbs, carefully hand-planted and tended to until they’re hardy enough to stand on their own. Half an acre alone is dedicated to flowers, though, some functional and useful for potions and brews, others chosen because of their fragrance or for the way their beauty fill his gardens with colour.

The edge of his gardens are made clear by the tangling of plants against a rickety fence, less there for the purpose of keeping intruders out and plants in—his magic takes care of that—but more as a reminder for those who might stumble across the clearing to be wary of trespassing.

Ennoshita lost several of his Himalayan blue poppies to a family of curious deer one summer, after the flowers had just begun to bloom. He’d been devastated. Now, a year later, a new batch of poppies sway gently in the breeze, their yellow centers stretching for the sun as if to compete with the sunflowers on the opposite side of the clearing.

They hardly need to, though, given all the special care he's given the finicky poppies lately, trying make sure they blossom at the peak of their season for the unveiling of the full moon in another week. He's sure that this time, he's finally gotten all the ingredients and the spell correct, that _this time,_ his potion will work. So as friendly and innocent as the deer are, he isn't taking any chances. Another afternoon snacking could mean waiting another year to try out this potion.

He hasn’t strengthened his wards lately, so he gathers his gardening tools and ducks back inside. Turning his attention to the cauldron on the other side of the room, he adds four sprigs of moonwort and three leaves of ground clary sage. The liquid inside bubbles gold. In ancient Latin, Ennoshita recites the spell, a humble request to the earth to watch over his home and gardens for strangers—in this case, deer.

———

It’s another night of blustery weather. The rain smacks against his windows, blown there by the raging wind. Inside, Ennoshita hunches over the long table in the room. He’s spent all day working on his potion, the one he’s been aching to try out for the past two years now, his anticipation building as he gets closer and closer to the time he’ll be able to actually start the spellwork for the brew.

If everything goes right, it’ll strengthen his abilities when his powers are weaker and he’ll be able see the stars and planets with ease, regardless of time or weather. Even just a small dose of the potion, if brewed properly, will give him the magical strength he needs to cast more powerful spells, ones he hasn’t reached the capacity to perform yet.

He takes a moment to wipe his brow. It's been a productive day, even if it had been cut short by the abrupt weather change. At least he’d gathered all the correct herbs and flowers he’d needed before the rain started, allowing him to spend the stormy afternoon inside, warm and cozy, while preparing the plants for the potion.

It’s somewhere in the middle of nightfall by the time Ennoshita finishes all his preparations. He double-checks everything the brewing requires before letting himself take a break.

It's only when he’s curled up in bed, ready to tuck into a book of stories, that he realizes it isn’t just the wind that’s howling outside.

Sure enough, when he closes his eyes and concentrates, sending out faint ripples of his own life force to detect the presence of others’ energy around him, he finds a pack of golden auras moving through the forest. Wolves, most likely.

They’re scattered, prowling about between trees, a good fifteen metres apart from one another. Curiosity piqued, Ennoshita pauses in his spellwork to send out a stronger ripple of energy, wondering at their strange behaviour. An image flashes at the front of his mind’s eye and suddenly he finds that they aren’t wolves at all—they’re werewolves. Angry ones, too, their auras flecked crimson red. They’re searching for something, _someone,_  and when he concentrates again, he finds one aura further away from the pack, this one tinted shades of indigo and violet, fear and desperation and hurt staining through.

He notices the pack getting closer to both the lone wolf and his clearing. As he opens his eyes, his sight returns to normal.

Plucking his hat from the table, he settles it onto his hair and opens the front door.

Rain swirls into his cabin, the wind sweeping it up into spirals and splattering it against the wooden floors and the papers strewn across the walls. Ennoshita clucks his tongue disapprovingly, but with a brush of his fingers the wetness fades away. He waves a hand in front of the doorway, and an invisible wall shimmers into existence, blocking the wind and rain from entering his dwelling.

Although the magic in the act itself is simple, it never fails to amaze Ennoshita that the full moon can amplify his powers so easily. It isn't as powerful as when a rare solar event occurs, but it's enough that his magic is nearly tenfold its everyday capabilities.

He closes his eyes again. Golden lights weave, the frontrunner of the werewolves close enough that when Ennoshita opens his eyes and squints out into the rain and dark shadows of the forest, he can make out a shape bounding over rocks and fallen logs, deftly weaving around trees.

As the werewolf nears his clearing, Ennoshita steps outside, the pouring rain drumming against the ground and splashing into the pools of water already gathered in the ebbs and swells of the ground. Still, the droplets of water bounce away from him harmlessly, as if shielded by some invisible shelter.

He's halfway to the edge of the clearing when he sees the werewolf charge past the outskirts of the forest, a streak of silver in the open land, fast despite its limp, running, running, and then— _Shit,_  he remembers belatedly, _I strengthened the wards again today_ _—_ the wolf crashes into the seemingly empty air above the fence, punched backward in a spray of crackling golden energy.

Ennoshita runs the rest of the way to where the wolf lies, panting, by the fence’s edge. Its fur is matted with burrs and leaves, blood streaking past several nasty wounds. He can hear the howls of the other werewolves, close, and the werewolf opens its eyes and gazes at Ennoshita.

Shakily, Ennoshita holds a hand out past the now-glowing boundaries of the barrier.

“I’m Ennoshita.”

He isn’t sure what he expects the werewolf to do, but it slowly staggers to its feet, never breaking eye contact. It growls for a moment, teeth bared, but then it lets down its guard the tiniest bit and warily limps forward, tentatively breaching the barrier.

“It’s okay now. You’re safe.”

They’re halfway to the cottage when the other werewolves bound into the clearing, snapping their jaws angrily when the barrier forces them back. The wolf at Ennoshita’s side doesn’t even flinch, his stiff demeanor and flicking ears the only sign that he recognizes their presence at all.

Ennoshita’s gaze drifts over his shoulder again to where the pack prowls behind them, except their leader, who sits there, stock-still, as if issuing a challenge.

Whatever it means, Ennoshita doesn’t think he wants to know. He turns around resolutely and continues up the path, the silver werewolf at his side.

When he looks back again, the pack is gone.

———

The werewolf slumps to the floor once they make it inside, blood and rainwater pooling around him. Whether he’s unconscious or unable to move, Ennoshita figures his lack of resistance and apparent trust will work in his favour.

With a flick of his hand, he shuts the door behind them, evaporating the water that’s sluiced into the room and carefully levitating the prone wolf to the table in the middle of the room. For the next half hour, the room is silent save for the bubble of the cauldron, the steady drum of rain against the windows, and the quiet whisper of magic around Ennoshita as he magicks away the blood and dirt, replacing them with salves and bandages.

Perhaps it’s something about the way the werewolf trusted him implicitly that makes Ennoshita feel like the wolf in front of him isn’t dangerous at all. His common sense whispers to him that the fact that he _had_  could mean he’s dangerous, but Ennoshita senses that isn’t the case. After all, the wolf had accepted his offer, a sign of trust that Ennoshita has no intention of betraying. They both know fully well that in today’s society, werewolves and witches don’t associate with one another. If they do meet, it tends to be in The Underground.

Ennoshita shakes his head at the memories that float into his mind, unbidden. The past is in the past. Somehow, he knows that this particular werewolf isn’t the same as the others he’s met before. Whatever the reason for his pack chasing him, Ennoshita senses that he had good reason to be running.

Healing finished, Ennoshita floats the werewolf over to his bed. The blankets rustle as he tucks him in, and impulsively, he presses a kiss against the werewolf’s fur, the motion a faded memory from long ago. He knows what it’s like to be on the run, and he hopes that for this particular werewolf, he won’t have to run any longer.

———

Tanaka drifts in and out of consciousness.

A gentle voice says something, the words lost to the hazy darkness he’s drifting in. Hands soothe the aches on his back and legs, and there’s a press of lips to his brow.

He peers through half-closed eyes to see a stranger in the corner, his back to Tanaka as he murmurs words in foreign languages. Steam spirals out from the cauldron in front of him, and Tanaka swears that the pinpricks of light on his clothes dance in the purple fabric.

He falls back asleep.

———

Ennoshita wakes up slowly, head throbbing from his extensive use of magic the previous day and his lack of sleep from brewing the potion into the early hours of dawn.

His neck has an uncomfortable crick in it from falling asleep in a squashy armchair he doesn’t remember conjuring up, and his hat is tipped so low over his face that, for a few moments, he thinks evening has already fallen. He pulls the hat off his head, yawning and scruffing a hand over his face to wipe his bleary eyes.

“How come your hair is all stuck up like that?”

His yawn turns into a yelp, and he searches the room for the source of the voice.

A boy who looks to be around his age sits in Ennoshita’s bed, underneath the blanket. He waves. Ennoshita stares.

“I’m the werewolf you brought in last night!” he says, a toothy grin on his face, and Ennoshita distantly thinks that smile is fitting. “Thanks for that,” the boy adds. His slate-blue eyes flicker to the closet across the room, and when Ennoshita continues to stare at him, he fidgets awkwardly before blurting out, “Can I borrow a pair of pants?”

“What?”

“Pants,” the boy says, and Ennoshita snaps out of it.

“Oh, yes, right.”

He gets up from the chair and opens the closet. Thankfully, he _does_ have a few other sets in there, and he pulls out the longest pair he owns. He grabs a shirt, too, and tosses both his way.

“Thanks. By the way, I’m Tanaka.”

“Ennoshita.”

“So you said.”

Tanaka grins, pants on but shirt discarded to the side, for whatever reason. Before Ennoshita can tell him to put it on, Tanaka repeats his earlier question—“What’s up with your hair?”

Ennoshita looks up, as if he can see the top of his own head, and Tanaka guffaws out loud at his perplexed action. He touches the strands of his hair absently, having almost forgotten that they’ve been magicked into this state.

“Ah, it’s a long story,” he says. “Usually I wear a hat.”

“That ain’t any kind of hat hair I’ve seen before. Or magic,” Tanaka says, holding up his arms, newly freed of both bandages and scars.

Ennoshita crosses his arms and studies him. “Tell me, do you make it a habit to find witches out in the woods?”

“No,” Tanaka says lightly, “but I’ve travelled a fair amount. Seen a lot of things but nothing as crazy as that hair.”

Ennoshita rolls his eyes and shoves his hat on. “Well, I’ve got things to do. You’re welcome to do as you please, just don’t touch anything.”

———

Apparently, Tanaka’s interests include tagging along after Ennoshita like a lost puppy, comically curious at Ennoshita’s rituals in tending the garden.

In the rare occasion that someone crosses into these parts of the woods, Ennoshita has always helped such strangers. But with Tanaka, he doesn’t feel the itch to politely escort him on his way when all’s said and done. If anything, he feels a pull to learn more about him.

He lets Tanaka pack the dirt around the orris seedlings, has him chop the vegetables for their lunch, answers his incessant barrage of questions. Ennoshita bites down his own questions. When Tanaka is ready, he hopes he’ll tell him.

———

Weeks pass and they fall into a sort of rhythm, being in the same house together. Ennoshita doesn’t want to call it living together. For all he knows, Tanaka could leave any day.

Still, they find a comfortable routine, and it’s when they’re pruning some of the hedges in the gardens that Tanaka speaks up.

“The day you let me in, when I was being chased—that was my pack.”

Ennoshita doesn’t say anything, but he pauses long enough to let Tanaka know he’s listening.

“My pack is—well, _was_  close. We didn’t fall apart, and I probably wouldn’t have left if we hadn’t had a run in with some wolves from Wakutani.”

The name seems familiar to Ennoshita, but he doesn’t know why. He files it away in the back of his mind.

“They’re another pack, close by our territory on the southern end. We’ve never had any problems with them before, but they must’ve split up somehow because Isamu was gone. The new pack leader challenged Daichi and when Daichi refused, he initiated the match anyway. There was an accident and I got thrown into the middle of it. They figured that if I wanted to fight, I’d fight for my life. If I won, they’d leave. Our pack would have thoroughly proven our dominance if even a wolf like _me_  could defeat them.”

He gives a self-deprecating laugh, staring at the branches haphazardly stacked in his arms.

“I lost, of course. I was supposed to join their pack, and in exchange for peace, we’d give them a section of our territory. We had three days to meet them again and make the trade.

“Daichi told me to run. When I didn’t, they chased me out. I know it was for my own good—Wakutani’s pack can be ruthless at times, and with their new leader it’s too unpredictable to know if I’d be safe even in their own pack—but it still hurts to be forced out by the packmates you grew up with.”

He falls silent for a while, and Ennoshita lets Tanaka collect his thoughts.

“Anyway,” Tanaka says, clearing his throat, “our pack fight was convincing enough that they could label me a traitor. With that kind of label and the fact that I did end up running from both packs, I’m a deserter. It voids the contract. Wakutani might attack Karasuno again, but they know their strategies now. At the very least, I’m free. I figured I’d make my way across the forest and look for my sister.”

“Your sister?” Ennoshita questions gently. “Where is she?”

Tanaka shrugs. “I haven’t seen Saeko since she and her mate left the pack a few years ago. Finding her would be a long shot, but it would’ve been better than roaming by myself. A lone wolf doesn’t last too long out here.”

He cracks a grin at Ennoshita, but there’s a sadness he can’t disguise in it.

Ennoshita presses the last cut branch into Tanaka’s hands, carefully curling the other boy’s fingers over the branch with his own, gripping them tight for a moment under the pretense of securing the stack of wood. He doesn’t have the words to convey the sorrow he feels for Tanaka’s situation, doesn’t know what sort of comfort he can give.

But Tanaka must understand because he drops the smile, letting his expression soften into something a little more somber, but still determined. Tanaka’s got a fire inside him, and the nod he gives Ennoshita tells him that it’s nowhere close to burning out.

———

Somehow, the hours turn into days, and those turn into weeks and months. Ennoshita has come to expect Tanaka’s sharp smile and witty quips, to cook for meals two, to have an extra hand when he can’t quite juggle the various jars and tools he needs for making his latest potions. Ever since Tanaka first bounded into Ennoshita’s life, the foundations of his quiet routines shifted slowly, like tides smoothing over sands until they’re rearranged anew.

In a way, Tanaka’s presence is practically second nature to his awareness now, some sort of gravity pulling him toward the other boy. At night, they watch the stars together. Ennoshita rearranges them into silly patterns or little jibes that make Tanaka laugh, and Ennoshita wonders when somewhere along the way, that sound became his favourite thing to hear.

His garden blooms in shades of autumn, and the squashy chair—commandeered by Tanaka—becomes part of his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! (｡´ ‿｀♡)
> 
>  
> 
> [Get a digital copy of the full Worlds Away zine here!](https://fantasyzines.bigcartel.com/product/worlds-away-a-haikyuu-fantasy-zine-ezine)


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